


Cynical Secrets

by MilkySmile



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkySmile/pseuds/MilkySmile
Summary: Reader is 'accepted' into the new recalled Overwatch team but is put under Soldier 76 in hopes he can train her to be a soldier.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, my first Soldier 76 x Reader! I thought his personality would be rather easy to write since he's kinda simple and boring(?) but oh God I was wrong. I tried my hardest to keep his character
> 
> This is chapter one! Chapter two already in the making!

Your overworked muscles trembled with each aching step you took. You wanted to collapse onto the ground, but his booming voice ripped any thoughts of surrender to shreds. The aggressive, abusive shouts burned your ears, making the current blazing agony seem bearable compared to the verbal barrage that would result from failing. The rain decided to change its course, carrying cruel liquid needles with it. They belted across your face, leaving your cheeks numb and tender. Your lungs struggled with each new breath, unable to keep up with your workout. 

He didn’t actually expect you to be able to complete this course? 

Did he? 

Of course he did.

Hell, Winston probably couldn’t make it! 

Your mind drifts, a defense mechanism to get your brain off the pain. 

Winston. You were shocked when Winston contacted you for the first time in months informing you of his bold decision to recall Overwatch. The group of heroes were left in shambles after the death of Jack Morrison and had been disbanded for around 5 years, the agents separating and carrying on with their lives. But with crime climbing to an all time high and rising tensions between omnic and humans, Winston made a risky and highly illegal choice to regather the agents.

You think back to your family and past in an attempt to ignore the cries your muscles made to stop, the distraction the only thing keeping your legs from collapsing from under you.

You thought back to your mother. She was a scientist on the moon caring and testing on Winston and the other gorillas before they went rogue. She was brutally killed that day with Winston as a witness. You never asked Winston about the details of her death even though it jabbed at your heart; you couldn’t do that to him. You couldn’t bring him back to that day.

Nevertheless, Winston never hesitated to praise how outstanding mother’s intellect and smile was. He claims you have her eyes and it warms your heart, but you never want to admit that you don’t remember your mother much at all. Looking at photos of her she seems a stranger to you, her smiling eyes unable to recollect in your familiar mind.

You still remember first meeting the Winston- the small curious gorilla your Mum introduced you to over a video call. You were young at the time, a few teeth already beginning to painfully push their way through your squishy pink gums, but you remember it clearly. You sat upon your father's lap, your fingers mimicking your father’s as you both waved at the wide eyed gorilla. He stared back at you with big honey eyes, his lips pulling back over his sharp ape teeth in a smile. 

You could understand why he was so hesitant when you begged him to become an Overwatch agent. You knew the risks, how illegal it was and how death could even be a possible outcome. But you wanted to work alongside memorable people and make history. You wanted to help people.

The remaining agents were reluctant, hell, majority were down right against it. You didn’t have any military background what so ever. Not only that, you were young and inexperienced, but that didn’t stump Winston. He had high hopes in you, claiming to see something special in you. You dreaded the idea that maybe he thinks you would become like your mother- but you knew you weren’t nearly as remarkable as she was. You never will be.

Eventually, Winston’s persuasive charm prevailed and the agents gave in to his repetitive pestering, welcoming you with rather open arms. The first month with Overwatch was so exciting, meeting new people and personalities and everyone you’d seen on tv with a few new faces.

The lack of a military background meant you had to be trained within Overwatch. It wasn’t anything too intensive, or at least that’s what Winston said, but you were more than happy to comply. He taught you the basics of how to shoot and reload a gun with the help of a ruggedly handsome cowboy. You weren’t a bad shot at all and the praise from the Southern man made your cheeks pink. But then the actual physical training kicked in, and you got stuck under him.

_Him._

Soldier 76. When you first stepped foot in Overwatch he scared the shit out of you. Always standing tall and on guard, you didn’t need to see his face to know that he’s always scowling at you. It didn’t take you long to pick up that he had utterly no respect for you. He believed you were a liability. The recalled team was wasting precious time and money on you in his eyes.  

 

_“Untrained, unfit, we can’t just let people join just because they asked nicely!” he would growl at Winston. "What if she rats us out?"_

_“Look Jack, just give her a chance. I trust her, and there’s something special about her, I know it. With some proper training she will make an exceptional agent and her true colours will shine through.”_

_“And if she doesn’t?” the masked man was quick with his sharp question. Winston sighed._

_“If she doesn’t and you still believe her to be an extreme liability then I will relieve her of her duties, but I doubt it will come to that, Jack.”_

_“She better start making an effort then.”_

You knew he hated you. He pushed you around a lot, whether it be not eating enough for breakfast or your bed not being made neatly enough. He forced you to train at ungodly hours in the morning when even the morning bird Dr. Ziegler was still warm in her bed dreaming. His criticism and the annoyance that filled his voice when he barked his orders at you made you so nervous to even breathe around him.

He was insufferable. The resentment he had for you seemed to seethe from behind that glowing red visor. You did nothing to deserve his bitterness; you wanted to work alongside him and help out, but his rudeness towards you didn’t falter. 

You tried to reassure yourself that maybe the old man was just cynical and his attitude towards you would soon improve, but with each coming day your optimism faded.

It was morning training. The sun's morning rays were barely able to make its way through the thick blanket of cloud that covered the sky. The morning program was always a bitch. Run for several kilometers, push-ups, crunches and other fun routines that Soldier 76 had decided. The once dirt trail that looped the circumference of the base had turned into a thick slush due to the rain, proving challenging to maintain a proper sprint. 76 wasn’t having any of that. He continued to fire unmotivational orders from his rather comfortable sheltered spot, a stopwatch in hand. With grinding teeth and erratic breaths you struggled to uphold your scamper; the extra strength of freeing your feet from mud with each step was exhausting you.

“If you don’t finish this lap within 20 seconds I’m giving you 3 extra to complete!” he threatened. With a wobble of your knees you were up against the wall, hand over your mouth in an attempt to hold back your nausea. 

“You have 10 seconds left!”

Your body trembled at the abuse you had carried out on it. With each day consisting of muscle tearing exercises, two days of rest a week just couldn’t keep up with your body’s healing process. There’s no way you could physically continue this today with rest day 2 days away. You felt ashamed as if you were letting Winston down.

With heavy footsteps you hear him approaching in the rain, a growl brewing in his chest.

What do you think you’re doing? You don’t get to rest until you finish your laps!”

“I can’t,” you coughed. The nausea was coming over you in powerful waves. Your lungs flared with each breath, a mixture of salty sweat and rain dripping from your nose.

“You can’t?” he mimed, his voice still firm. “I don’t care for your sob story. Finish the laps!”

“I can’t, S-sir,” you wheezed, placing your hands firmly on your head and closing your eyes. Maybe politeness will give him a change of heart? “It hurts.”

“If you can’t stand this, how do you expect yourself to fight on a battlefield?”

“I don’t know,” you breathed, the stitch that pierced your side refusing to subside. 

“You can't just sit and rest where and when you want to. You’re always on the move and aware. Believe it or not, your enemies are not as kind as me.”

You didn’t reply, but inwardly snickered at his kind comment.

“You’re almost done. Just finish your laps and we can be done for the day,” he assured. You cracked open an eye to look at the man, his sudden change in tone surprising you. 

“How long until I complete the training course?” you asked, unable to keep your mouth shut. “Lucio told me you didn't train the others nearly this hard.”

You watched his forehead crinkle into his usual frown, his scar distorting with his heavy wrinkles. 

“Everyone else has either joined with prior experience or has their own special ability and talents to help us as a whole!” he snarled, his voice deep with irritation. You lifted your eyes to look at the authority in front of you. His hair was now wet with rain water, giving it a slick messiness.

“And what do you have?” he added, returning your look behind his visor. “Nothing. No past experiences, no talents or anything special about you.” 

It was your turn to frown. 

“Fuck you,” you blurted. Your voice was frail with exhaustion but audible. The air between the two of you was dry despite the rain drops that dripped from his visor. You waited for the regret to flood into your body at once, but it never came. Hell, you’d even say you felt rather good to put the man in his place.

He tilted his masked head to the side ever so slightly, the illuminated orange in his visor boring into you.

_“What?”_

“I said,” you repeated, standing up straight this time, _“fuck you!_ I’m sick of you treating me like dirt!”

Soldier 76 charged towards you. Your confidence left your body as quickly as it came. Oh, there’s the regret. A squeal left your lips as you backed up away from the oncoming force. Within seconds you were back against the wall with a painful thud, the air knocked from your already fatigued lungs. Soldier 76 towered over you, his grasp firm around the collar of your wet gym shirt. He moved in closer to you, the cold metal from his visor almost at your nose. You averted your eyes away in fear, but his mask covered most of your vision.

“If I were you I would watch that filthy mouth of yours and show some goddamn respect!” he spat, his voice raw and low. You trembled under his grasp. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but you knew he was holding back his true strength. It scared you even more.

“It’s up to me whether or not you get to stay! If you can’t handle the heat then pack up and get out!” he snarled, getting a better grip on your collar and sliding you up the wall to his eye level. “Saves me the hassle.”

His grasp did not falter. He was glaring at you behind the safety of his visor, thus rendering his face unreadable, but it didn’t take a genius to imagine the bitter face he held. You wiggled your toes but they continued to float, the ground below you unreachable  After a few moments of your heavy breathing and drum like heartbeats his voice spoke up again, earning a weak whimper from you.  
   
“What do you have to say for yourself, brat?”

His tone dripped intimidation and superiority. You wiggled in his grip and raised your eyes to meet his visor.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered rather pathetically, but it was genuine.

You saw his harsh forehead creases soften a fraction with your words, his scar becoming less contorted.  
He released you back onto your wobbly feet. Turning away from you and squeezing his gloved palms into a fist, he gave you a moment to regain your posture. 

“After this little stunt,” he huffed, “you can be grateful I’m only giving you 5 extra laps. Don’t bother coming back until you’re finished. Get to it.”

You ran. You finished those 5 extra laps without complaint, leaving the field after your last lap without a word exchanged with 76. You didn’t even bother looking at him, embarrassment and fear creating a weird emotional mixture in your gut, but you felt his eyes burning holes in your back as you left. 

You showered the dank sweat and rain residue from your hair, your stomach growling at you to hurry up and get breakfast. You savoured the hot water’s effects on your sore muscles, showering a little longer than necessary. You’d prefer to be late to breakfast anyway; you didn’t feel like listening to Lucio’s new track he claimed was ‘fire’ or Hana’s amazing play she claims she did last night. Most of all, you wanted to avoid him. He was always either early or exactly on time to breakfast, but he never ate anything due to that stupid mask. He just sat there, discussing things with Winston and Ana, and sometimes Jesse if he wasn’t bothering Hanzo.

You checked out your back in the fogged up mirror. Bruises were starting to form and your shoulder blades and lower back, your skin purpling and sore. That is going to be super painful to sleep on tonight. With a sigh you threw your wet towel to the floor, not bothering to properly dry your hair. Tying it up will be fine for breakfast.

Breakfast was served in a rather large hall with mismatched pairs of tables and chairs. You didn’t really mind who you sat with, you got along with mostly everyone, but you leaned more towards your younger pairs like Lucio and Hana and sometimes the bubbly Brit Lena.

A throb went through your head as you made your way to the doorway of the room that held your next favoured meal. You let your face fall into your hands, rubbing your achy forehead as you walked subconsciously. Maybe not drying your hair was a bad idea; it seemed to be increasing your headache. Without warning, your fingers dug into the outer sockets of your eye together with your palm flattened against your nose. You yelped in pain, taking a staggered step away from the firm interruption. Your eyes flickered up to the old Soldier that towered over you, his visor lowered, peering down at you. With a hastily mumbled apology you stepped out of the way of his chest, succumbing to his radiating dominance once again. 

“Ah, Soldier 76 and (Y/N)! How did training go today? I see it was raining this morning,” Winston chatted, making his way over to the two of you. 76's visor calmly tilted your way, inspecting your small and obviously anxious frame. Your eyes immediately fell to the floor.

Oh crap. Here comes the goodbye (Y/N) don’t let the door hit you on the way out conversation.

“Training went fine. She’s improving,” the older man informed Winston. Winston’s dark lips creased into a delighted smile, his index finger pushing his glasses back up his nose. You on the other hand gawked at 76. He didn't look back at you, keeping his those hidden eyes on the friendly primate.

"She will be doing higher demanding training from now on,” Soldier 76 added. "I think physically she is ready for this next step."

“Oh, exciting! What does this consist of?” Winston asked. You continued to stare at Soldier 76, torn between whether to be furious or thankful.

“Just more intensified version of exercise that she does now. Extended laps, extra sit-ups, all with earlier morning starts.”

This was his way of getting back at you. To show his control over you. You felt like tackling him to the ground and ripping off that ridiculous play mask of his, but you held your breath. He was your ticket to becoming an Overwatch agent; he'd made that very clear to you today. 

You had never felt so powerless.

“I knew she wouldn’t let you down,” Winston reassured with a grin, sending a tinge of guilt to your gut. Soldier 76 didn’t reply to Winston, rather he just grunted. Or was it a snort?

You couldn't tell.


	2. Apologies

Breakfast with Winston was rather standard like most mornings. The two of you talked about upcoming missions and Winston made sure to praise you highly for your efforts in training. He claimed it wasn’t easy to stay in Soldier 76’s good books like you have been and he was rather impressed. You inwardly scowled at the thought of that old man’s bad temper. 

With your dislike for Solider 76 aside, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt in your gut. Winston was so proud of you and ecstatic that you may be officially joining the team soon. You had been a little shit today and needed to remember where you stood; and at the end of the day it was up to Solider 76 if you’re going to stay. You really needed to step up your game with training.

Thoughts of the events that took place earlier that day made you cringe.

“I’m going to go back to my room,” you decided. “Let me take your plate.”

“I’ll take it,” Winston interrupted with a wink, his large wrinkled hands taking your plate from your grasp with ease. “Go rest up.”

You thanked the oversized gorilla and left the breakfast hall. A sigh escaped your lips as you placed your hands on your head with a stretch. Without doubt you owed Soldier 76 a rather large thank you; that was his chance to rat out your childish behaviour and get you booted. Yet he didn’t, and you were terribly thankful for that. 

Extremely confused, but terribly thankful. 

Your hands moved to your face with another dramatic exhale to rub your tired eyes. Leaning your forehead against the cold wood of your bedroom door, pitiful guilt turned within your gut. You needed to go and thank the man. Even if you despise him, you knew it was the most mature thing to do. You owe him one for saving your ass. Anyway, after training, how much more of the man will you have to see? You’d be a trained Soldier, he’d have to treat you differently.

Right?

Your eyes flickered up towards the corridor, your body following. Running a single finger along the wall, you counted the doors to his room. He was door 7, in between Tracer and Ana; 2 doors down from you. 

Your heart began to cry out in your chest. You swallowed your discomfort (if not your pride) and clunked your knuckles on his door in 3 firm knocks. The silence creeped on for what felt like minutes. Nibbling the inside of your cheek you knocked again, harder and firmer. Maybe he’s not in his room? You didn’t expect him to be anyway; he’s a rather busy man. No time for resting up in his room when he’s got an organization to run.

A sharp, agitated ‘what’ answered your knock from the other side of the door, pulling you from your thoughts. Eyes falling to your feet, you shuffled your weight and spoke up.

“May I speak to you?”

 

“No.” Soldier 76 replied firmly from inside. You blinked, lips parting in awe and eyes moving back to the brown door.

Well that was rather… blunt. Fighting a frown and the curl of your lips, you spoke up after the awkward response.

“Please, it’s important,” you pleaded. It was silent for a moment, your throat feeling dry. You cleared it abruptly as you heard an annoyed, tired sigh followed by movement from inside. The sound of fumbling and mechanics sliding into place. His mask, of course. He wouldn’t be caught dead without it. The door swung open, revealing a rather irritated man, his arms reaching up into a fold. Licking the inside of your lips you strained to look into his bright red visor, purposely ignoring the body hugging black turtle neck shirt he wore. Seeing him in something other than his leather jacket and combat boots felt outlandish to you.

“Yes?” he pushed. His dark pink scar distorted with a frown under his mask with his words. Your chest rose with a courageous breath. Did this old man ever smile? Guess you’ll never know with this stupid mask he wore.

“I would like to say thank you.” you muttered. “For today, with Winston. I-, you didn’t need to do that; stand up for me and stuff. Yet you did, so thank you.”

The air was dry with silence, as if he was waiting for you to say more. You made sure to look him in his eyes.

“I promise I won’t let you down again. I was completely out of line today.”

“I do not care for your promises. I care for determination and success. I want you to prove it to me,” he replied firmly.

“Then I will prove it.”

A curt nod was his only response as he unfolded his arms, his fingers reaching for the door.

“Enjoy your rest day, cadet.”

“Yes, sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
The dreams were back again.

They never left, almost every night you were greeted with traumatic reminders of the past.

Your father, the man that kept you going after the loss of your mother. The man that you looked up to. The only man you trusted and the omnics ripped him from you. They did not care for human emotion and death, they were programed to kill and they were doing just that. 

They felt no remorse, no pain, no fear.

It terrified you.

The blood all over your hands and your face as strangers pulled you away from your dying father. The bullet holes that littered his body and his laboured breaths, blood choking from his lips. You tried to fight, to hold him in your arms as his life left him, his eyes dulling, but you were drifting further away. 

But the smell of warm blood and oil still felt so clear.

You woke with a choke, tears and snot staining your cheeks. Your sheets felt uncomfortable, hot and scratchy as they clung to you, the air in your room stuffy and hard to breathe. Thirst choked you.

You needed to get out of here. 

Before you were fully awake your bare feet padded along the floor of the mess hall; your hands clasping for a glass of water. You were alone, but Athena dimly lit up your path as you walked. Your muscles ached from the exercise you had endured. Soldier 76 wasn’t lying when he said he would increase your training. It had only been a week since the promise was made and you already felt a constant fiery pain through your body.He made you tremble and whimper in a pile of your own sweat every training morning and you abhorred it, but you never spoke a word. You did exactly as he commanded. Just like you promised. Every word, struggling but never failing to let him down again. Not even a hot bath could cure the pain your muscles cried out with.

“Shall I fill that glass for you, _____?” Athena spoke, her gentle blue hue warming the room as she spoke from the speakers Winston had installed everywhere. “Sparkling water perhaps?”

“No thank you, Athena,” you croaked, settling for plain tap water. Lifting your head back, you took giant sips; the crisp water was gratifying to your thirsty body. Each gulp you took as much water as your mouth could take, some dribbling from your lips and chin. With a dramatic pleasurable sigh, you swallowed the remaining drop of water in the bottle and licked the rim of the glass dry. Using the back of your hand to wipe the wet mess you made away from your chin, you squeezed the glass in the already full dishwasher. It was Hana’s night to clean up the kitchen, it’s not surprising she forgot to start the dishwasher. 

You kicked the door shut and asked Athena if she could start it for you.

“You should start it yourself.” You heard a voice behind you interrupting the complying British voice. Taking a sharp intake of breath in fright, you spun around to the voice, almost losing your balance. Solider 76 stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his posture straight with authority.

“Sir,” you answered, bringing a hand to your chest. “You frightened me!”

He seemed to raise an eyebrow behind his mask, tilting his head to the side.

“Soldier's always need to be alert. If I was an enemy I would have killed you by now.”

“I didn’t think I was still in training,” you muttered.

“You are always training.”

You sighed, rubbing your eye with the palm of your hand to get rid of any excess tears. “I’m surprised you're still awake.”

“No. I was in bed,” Solider 76 answered, leaning his body weight against the door frame. “Any reason for you to be yelling and running around the halls at 3am?”

 

You scrunched your nose in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry I woke you, Sir.” you swallowed. “I needed to get out of my room. Bad dream.”

“It happens,” he breathed, his piercing red visor’s light contrasting with Athena's gentle blue. Silence again engulfed the room, only the deep hum of the dishwasher lingering between the two of you.

“I wouldn’t think you would be scared of nightmares,” you half laughed.

“Everyone gets scared, no matter how cynical.”

Pursing your lips, you worked up some courage in your tummy.

“Did you lose anyone in the war, Sir?”

The air was silent. He watched you for a brief moment, your eyes trying to hold with his before falling to the floor in submission. He watched you twiddle your fingers that peaked from your large oversized shirt, the way your skin reflected the light of his visor. He stood up to his full height to answer you.

“We all have. That is why we are here. Fighting for what it is right; to bring back and maintain the peace.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you said, your voice just above a whisper. Your lips began to wobble, your throat burning again as a lump formed. Oh god, you missed them. “I lost my father. And my mother, to different circumstances.”

“I’m sorry,” he mimed. His chest rose and fell with a sigh as he broke eye contact with you, his fingers brushing the loose white hairs back that fell onto his scarred forehead. “You should be getting back to bed now, don’t think I’m going to let you off training today because of a bad dream.”

“I don’t want to go back to my room,” you whispered. “Not right now.”

“Because of your dream?” he pushed. You nodded timidly, feeling rather small and pathetic. “Look, Cadet. I don’t care, you need your sleep for training. I’m not having you collapse from exhaustion while we are training. You will sleep in my room with me, I have a couch I can sleep on.”

You were taken back at his offer. Was it an offer? More of a command. You craved the feeling of being safe right now. You knew this man could protect you from pretty much anything. Maybe the figures of the omnics that ripped your father from you wouldn't linger around your sleepless body, being feared off by Soldier 76’s strength and pure grumpiness? 

“You wouldn’t mind?” you spoke up, eyes flickering to meet his visor. He seemed to feel uncomfortable again, his weight shifting and palms clenching.

“You need your rest. Follow me.”

You pursued behind him, your footprints light pit pats compared to his own. You watched his back as he walked, neither of you sharing a word. Light pink scars littered his back and neck, following down into his arms that fell from his dark tank top. Each scar varied in size and colour, ranging from small and white to deep and dark pink like a gash. It was intimidating, seeing the pain this man had been through. 

You almost bumped into him as he stopped to open his door. You were welcomed into a dimly lit room. The first thing you noticed was the lack of personality; there were no photos or artwork to make his room his. There was a rather large double bed with fresh almost blinding white sheets tucked in, his army habits obviously still going strong. You looked to what you guessed was his side of the bed due to the ruffled sheet, closest to the large window that looked down over the hill that rolled down the base. He had a pretty nice view here, while your one was of the muddy training grounds.

“You can sleep here,” Solider 76 spoke up, gesturing his large hands to the bed. “I will sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t be silly,” you said. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

His head turned to you sharply.

“Do you want to sleep in my room or not? Get in the bed.”

You reluctantly complied, knowing well he would kick you out. You didn’t want to be alone tonight. The thought made you almost sick.

The smell of him engulfed you as you lay your head on his pillow, distracting you from your nervous nausea. It was warm, masculine and made you rather light headed. You fought back the urge to take a large sniff, writing that off as rather creepy.

“I have set the alarm on my visor for morning training.”

The soldier flicked the lights off, a blanket of darkness covering the two of you. The light of his visor blinked off as he removed the mask. Quickly, out of respect, you rolled over to face the other way, not wanting to invade the man’s privacy. 

It was silent again. Just you, him and a thick feeling of awkwardness. His mattress, though rather firm for your taste, was comfortable. You let out a small sigh of content, allowing sleep to swirl your mind. For the first time since you lost your father you felt truly safe. 

“My brother,” Soldier 76 spoke up, breaking the stillness of the room. His voice was deep and slightly rough with sleep. “I lost him in the war. We both went in and only I came out the other side.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a few seconds of shock. “I’m sure he would be proud of you, carrying on what both of you fought for.” 

Soldier 76 didn’t respond.

“Thank you, Sir,” you breathed, his musky aroma pushing your exhausted body into sleep. God, this man smelt good. “Goodnight.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Ok.”


End file.
